These otters are part of a covert attack mammal training program called "operation splash and giggle" funded by local fly fishing guides meant to deter the rubber hatch on the lower Madison. They have been trained to attack anyone wearing cutoff jeans, floating without oars, or drinking Busch, Natural Ice, or Mikes Hard Lemonade.

Holy crap! That otter tore that poor girl up! That could've been me last year when I hooked one. Great fight on a six weight, but I thought I was going to get ripped up getting it close enough to cut the leader. Luckily the hook bent out before it was an issue.

Maybe we've found a solution to the inner tube hatch problem plaguing good trout streams all over the West? I think we need to capture the perp, clone it and release its progeny on every navigable river in WA-OR-ID-MT. Wouldn't take long for all the inner tubers to be gone, so we could have the rivers to ourselves during prime summer fishing months and stop having to think of creative ways to respond to questions like "Caught anything?" and "How's the fishing?".

Hmmm... somewhere I'm not buying that this otter swam from the far bank on the lower Madison to attack her, there's hundreds of tubers floating down that lower section each day and this otter picks her out of the crowd? Something was there to provoke it, kind of like those amateur photographers in Yellowstone trying to capture the eye pupil of a bull bison. I'm not buying it.

On a side note, I find it hypocritical that the attitude of all the greenies (ie wolf lovers) hating the river otter because the "threat" to the fishery. I think the gov't should plant more otters because they're rare, the fish population is exploding and needs controlled, I would like to quit fishing and take up photographing river otters, especially those ones eating fish. In the meantime everyone can hang up there favorite rod over the mantle, reminisce about the good ol days and take up golf, cribbage or horseshoes.

My greatest regret is that no cougars were hitting on me when I was a strapping 20-something. Dang!

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When I was 16, a divorced neighbor lady was really friendly to me... in those days, there was no such thing as a cougar so I figured she was only friendly because she liked swimming with me in our pool.

Geezus... if I would have only known then what I know now!!!

I'm so much older now I doubt if an otter would find any interest in me...

My greatest regret is that no cougars were hitting on me when I was a strapping 20-something. Dang!

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Well, I had a 45+ year old cougar hit on me, and we got as far as downing a bottle of her home-made apricot wine.
Her name was "Ernestine." She had a son named "Ernie" who was one of my surf buddies.

Things were going down pretty smoothly until she said, "You can call me "Ernie," at which point, suddenly, I suffered a vivid image of my surf buddy's head on her body, and that kind of killed it for me.

Well, I had a 45+ year old cougar hit on me, and we got as far as downing a bottle of her home-made apricot wine.
Her name was "Ernestine." She had a son named "Ernie" who was one of my surf buddies.

Things were going down pretty smoothly until she said, "You can call me "Ernie," at which point, suddenly, I suffered a vivid image of my surf buddy's head on her body, and that kind of killed it for me.